The Legend and the Man Pt2 Allies
by Siean Riley
Summary: New World Zorro – Even enemies may be forced to work together sometimes... But such alliances can be fleeting. Second in a series of tales about Zorro and Victoria.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N:_ _This is the second_ _part of my_ _story._ _Thanks to Dizzy fire for translating and to Arianka for checking._

* * *

CHAPTER ONE

* * *

The sun was scorching hot. Its light, reflected in the barrel of the rifle, dazzled the eye and made the weapon almost too hot to hold. Sergeant Mendoza shifted on the plank that served as his makeshift seat, and rubbed his stomach. It was the afternoon, which the sergeant was in the habit of spending over a plate and a cup of wine at Señorita Escalante's tavern, not up on the _cuartel_ roof, trying to hide from the sun in the only available scrap of shadow. Sadly, an order was still an order, and even though the sergeant had been known to disregard the orders on occasion, his good sense advised him to obey this one.

The shadow covering the sergeant suddenly grew bigger. Mendoza raised his face, squinting at the blazing light and the bite of sweat in his eyes.

"Zorro..." he muttered without enthusiasm.

"Everything all right, Sergeant?" Zorro nimbly jumped down from a turret in the corner.

"Hot." Mendoza decided that complaining wouldn't hurt. Zorro was not a man who would inform the _alcalde_ about the sergeant's thoughts or desires. On the contrary, on several past occasions Zorro of all people had been kind enough to bring some simple pleasures into Mendoza's lonely, often boring and sometimes sad existence. Now he smiled knowingly, too.

"I'll see what I can do about some dinner, Sergeant," he promised and walked off along the wall of the _cuartel._

Watching him, Mendoza couldn't help but feel a little stab of envy. Zorro looked for all the world like he was not inconvenienced by the heat at all, though a man dressed all in black might be expected to feel more discomfort than anyone else. But no, he moved in a light and graceful fashion, briskly leaping from the top of the wall to the roof, and then walking on along the crest. Finally he jumped down so gracefully that Mendoza at once stopped wondering about some of Zorro's previous visits to the garrison. Oh yes, the black-clad, self-appointed defender of justice knew all the ways around the place and obviously felt just as much at ease on top of the _cuartel_ roof as in the middle of the Los Angeles marketplace.

Or in Señorita Escalante's tavern. From his sitting place the sergeant could not see Zorro enter the inn, but he did see two women emerge from its door, both of them hauling formidable baskets. They crossed the square, had a long discussion with the corporal guarding the gate, and finally entered the garrison. A few moments later they appeared on top of the wall, distributing burritos among the soldiers stationed there and filling their cups with something poured out from large, promising flasks. As Mendoza was to find out, the bottles contained nothing but water, but to him a sip of cold water still tasted better than many wines in the scorching heat. He made sure to scowl a little at the first sip, though. The woman giggled, fished out a small bottle from her basket and added a modest measure of wine to his cup.

Well-fed, and with a cup of cold, wine-flavoured water in his hand, Sergeant Mendoza felt much better. He shifted in his seat to make himself a little more comfortable and focused his eyes on the contours of the trees outside the pueblo, blurry and shifting in the sweltering air.

X X X

Serious events in Los Angeles commonly began without fanfare. This time, too, there was no thunder or earthquake to herald their coming. Nothing suggested that the grey, scorched everyday life might suddenly change; only later, through conversations and remembrances, people would piece together the whole chain of events that had led to a dramatic finale.

The first sign of the coming storm were the strangers. It was not unusual for wanderers to pass through a pueblo located so close to the route into the interior, so no one paid any attention to them at first. They would appear every few days, sometimes alone, sometimes in groups of two, eat a meal at the tavern, occasionally restock their small supplies of food, and move on. But one man in particular got the people to watch the newcomers with more vigilance.

He was a large man, bearded, dressed in a shabby frock coat. He at first drew attention to himself by complaining about the quality of the meal he had been served, but he backed off when Señorita Escalante asked, rather sharply, which part exactly had not been to his liking. He apologised then, but his manner was so churlish that it was hard not to notice that the apology had not been exactly heartfelt. Victoria shrugged it off, just as she shrugged off his later attempts at conversing with her. Having managed the tavern for several years, she was used to clients like him – needlessly picky about the food and drink, yet all too eager to assume that, as a woman in charge of an inn, she was sure to provide them with another type of service entirely. Her preferred method of dealing with men like him was to employ mockery and pointed sarcasm; if that didn't work, she didn't hesitate to use pots and pans as well. Few were willing to press their case longer than for a few moments once they had been hit with a splash of pottage, or even with the pot itself. In this particular case, at first it seemed that a single biting remark had been enough to make the stranger rethink his advances. Victoria checked on him a few times, to make sure that he was still nursing his jug of wine without disturbing the other guests, but soon Don Diego de la Vega stopped by the tavern, and all matters to do with guests were temporarily put out of her mind.

She remembered them quickly enough when the same unpleasant visitor caught hold of her by the door. This time he did not complain about the wine or ask for a different plate. Instead, he abruptly pushed her against the wall and tried to force a kiss. Before she could kick out or struggle, however, the man was pushed aside with enough force to make him stumble and sit down heavily on the nearest bench. He sprang up at once and aimed a punch at his attacker, but in vain. His opponent dodged the blow – by a hairsbreadth, it seemed, but it was enough to make the aggressive guest's fist collide heavily with the wall. The man had no chance to even catch his breath after the sudden wave of pain when he was caught by the nape of his neck and pressed into the wall. An icy voice drawled next to his ear, "Next time I'll draw steel."

The man turned slowly. He was facing the same _caballero_ whom the innkeeper had welcomed so eagerly a few moments ago.

"Forgive me, Señor. I didn't think that woman..." he broke off, feeling a pressure on this throat. The _caballero_ leaned forward until their noses almost touched.

"She. Is. My. Bride." For a moment it seemed that he was about to squeeze the man's neck harder still, but then he let him go. "I advise you to mind your manners."

The troublesome guest stood there for a long while, rubbing his bruised hand. Eventually he downed his wine in a single gulp, threw a coin on the table and went to untie his horse. It seemed that he might leave without another word, but he paused for a while to look at the _caballero_ and the tavern keeper, who were now embracing, and spat on the ground. This expression of his feelings cost him dearly, for it was then that Sergeant Mendoza spoke up.

"A moment, Señor!"

"Yes?" The man stopped in the middle of untying the reins.

"Could you explain to me where you got this coin?" The sergeant extended his hand, in which he was holding the silver peso the stranger had left on the table.

Instead of answering, the man tugged on the straps. Before he could break them and jump into his saddle, though, the _caballero_ caught hold of his arm. The newcomer twisted in his grip, trying to land a blow on him, but a quick punch sent him tumbling to the ground, next to his horse's hooves.

"Oof... Don Diego... " gasped the sergeant.

"I think you were right about the coin, Sergeant," Diego stated. "If it was legitimate, he wouldn't have tried to run... Let me see it."

Victoria was faster, and plucked the coin straight out of the sergeant's hand.

"It's counterfeit!"

Diego pulled the unconscious man to his feet rather unceremoniously, and shoved him straight into the waiting hands of the soldiers.

"Take him to a cell, Corporal Rojas!" Mendoza ordered. When the soldiers had left, he turned to Diego and Victoria. "Don Diego…"

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"You... you sounded just like Zorro! And you were fast like him, too!" The sergeant's voice was full of astonishment.

He was even more surprised when Don Diego smiled shyly, as if embarrassed. Victoria hugged him more tightly.

"I must confess, Sergeant," Diego eventually answered, "that I've been learning. From Zorro."

"With great results!" The sergeant beamed. "You really sounded just like Zorro when he's angry," he assured and proudly marched off to the garrison, to report on the incident.

"You're learning?" asked Victoria, raising an eyebrow.

"I am," Diego smiled at her. "And I do try my best."

X X X

 _Alcalde_ Luis Ramone was not the best _alcalde_ in the world. If someone asked the inhabitants of Los Angeles, they would not rank him very highly even among the _alcaldes_ that had governed over their tiny little pueblo. He was vainglorious, greedy, and some of his actions were downright vile. He was also quick to make judgements and form antipathies, and it was easy indeed to earn his ire. What was more, he kept trying to raise the taxes so that the extra sums could fall into his pockets and, regular as the seasons, came up with various other ideas which the people of the pueblo considered stupid, and which were intended to make him, if not famous, then at least wealthy. Since Zorro's appearance, these schemes usually came to nothing. But Luis Ramone was still the _alcalde_ , which meant that he had certain duties towards the pueblo, including making sure that the laws were obeyed. Even if he himself broke those laws rather frequently.

So when the soldiers brought a man accused of distributing counterfeit money to his office, Ramone thought long and hard. Although the stranger had struck at the thing most important to him – that is, finances – he was still not very much inclined to spend his time in checking the surrounding area for rumours of a counterfeiter, conducting the inquiry, or writing troublesome reports for the governor. Therefore, after checking the prisoner's pockets and coin-purse, and a good deal of consideration, the _alcalde_ pronounced his judgement. Since only one counterfeit coin had been found, he decided that the most suitable punishment would be a fine and a night in prison, followed by an order to leave Los Angeles and its vicinity as soon as possible.

The next morning, then, the stranger left the _cuartel_ walls, poorer by a good handful of pesos and grimmer than a storm cloud. He climbed on his horse and rode out of the pueblo, passing by its disinterested inhabitants. However, there were at least three people present who watched him leave very attentively indeed.

"I have my concerns about that one..." Don Diego stated pensively. He and Victoria were standing in the shade of the tavern porch, from which they could clearly see both the _cuartel_ gate and the road leading out of the pueblo.

"Why?"

"Call it being over-anxious, Vi, but something doesn't seem to fit... Only a hunch so far, but I'd like to check it out. In any case, I have a magnificent horse, and I must make sure he gets enough exercise," he smiled rakishly and kissed the inside of her palm. Victoria laughed out loud.

"Go, go... and be back quickly."

"Will you miss me, Señorita?"

"No one but you," she said. Then she added in a whisper, "The real you."

* * *

TBC.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you for reviews!_

* * *

CHAPTER TWO

* * *

Zorro jumped down from his saddle at the foot of a small cliff. The top of the cliff offered a perfect vantage point for the areas around the pueblo, but anyone who stopped there was also clearly visible to those below. Especially if he happened to be on horseback. As he threw the reins on the saddle bow, Toronado snorted, as if surprised at the delay. In the past few weeks the horse had had few chances of a good run to stretch his muscles, though Zorro always took care to ensure that his companion was not spending too much time inside the hidden cave. Unfortunately Diego was in love now, and he was spending more time in the pueblo than at the hacienda. True, he no longer had to be as careful about hiding the time he had spent tending to the horse from his loved ones – but even so, it wasn't often that he and Toronado could ride together freely and without hurry.

The vista stretched before him far and wide. The air was shimmering with heat, the details blurry, but even at this distance he could quite easily see the frayed, broken threads of the roads and footpaths, and the wider bands of the streams. The pueblo was nothing but a clump of sandy grey shapes crouched low to the ground; the fields of the nearby haciendas twinkled golden-green, while the trees formed splotches of a darker, deeper shade. The cattle in the meadows and the rare solitary rider were no more than little dots against the landscape. On leaving the hacienda, Diego had still seen the silhouette of a traveller on the road ahead. The man had seemed to be in no hurry, which could either mean that he had a long way ahead of him, or – on the contrary – that his destination lay somewhere nearby. In either case, Zorro should have no trouble finding him again, yet so far this had proved impossible. Despite his spyglass, all he could be certain of at the moment was that the Santa Barbara road was empty of any men resembling be the stranger he was looking for.

Before climbing to the top of the cliff, he had been willing to believe that perhaps his hunch had been wrong this time, and that the brutish traveller had been no more than he'd appeared – a rather ill‑mannered vagabond, for whom the little pueblo was only a short stop on his journey. Still, Zorro knew his hunches were usually not to be disregarded. The brute had seemed like he'd very much wanted to loudly threaten the pueblo with retribution for the disrespect they had shown him. More than that – as he'd ridden away, another stranger had been sitting in the shade of the tavern porch. They had avoided one another's eyes a little too studiously for an outside observer not to find it suspicious. Especially considering how surprised the other traveller had looked when he had seen his predecessor led out of the _cuartel_ gate by the soldiers. Surprised... and hostile. That needs must have drawn the attention of any skilled observer, and Zorro was just one such. This incidental little skill, which he'd have been much happier to use only in conducting his experiments, was nevertheless very useful when uncovering other people's secrets. No – he had no doubt at all that the uncouth visitor was a member of a larger company, one not disposed very well towards the inhabitants of the pueblo. Therefore, it remained to be seen how many friends he had and what exactly he was planning. Besides, Zorro was rather annoyed by the fact that several such wanderers had most likely already passed through Los Angeles with himself none the wiser.

If the stranger had left the road, he must look for him in the hills surrounding Los Angeles from the south. As Zorro well knew, there were few places in that area in which a group of ten or more men could stop for longer without drawing attention to themselves. One of those places, as it happened, was rather close to where he was now.

In the late-morning heat, the diaphanous shadow of the hillside bushes provided no more than an illusion of respite. For Zorro, however, it was more important that the bushes protected him from being accidentally seen, which he couldn't well afford at this point. The first secluded little valley he had checked had turned out to be the right one – he could smell the smoke from several yards away. Someone had been less than successful at making dinner; the odour carried hints of bacon, flour or pastry, and something that might have been beans at one point, but now it was mostly just burnt. After the smell came the noise. He only needed to sneak a little closer and find a spot on the hillside where the rocks were not blocking the sound, and he was well set to eavesdrop on the conversations below.

They appeared to be rather heated, too, and seemed to had been going on for some time already. They were dominated – judging by the sound of his voice – by the very same man who had spent the previous night in the Los Angeles prison cells. Now he was very loudly insisting that his return to the pueblo in the company of his friends was a straight necessity. Hearing some of the man's remarks, Zorro decided that things would go far better for the stranger if their next meeting happened in a public place. Far better indeed. Otherwise Zorro might just give him more than a clout on the head this time.

Zorro cautiously moved from bush to bush as the discussion below grew more animated. More and more of the men were agreeing with their comrade that they should disregard their former plans and make a little detour back to Los Angeles. Now the point of contention – and a rather major one – was the matter of choosing which of them would be allowed to participate in the expedition. Above, Zorro silently blessed the arguments, since they allowed him to easily count the number of angry participants and find out quite precisely what their intentions were. As he listened to their plans, though, he felt a rising temptation to jump down from his hiding place and challenge them all. But he owed it to his namesake, the fox, to stay cautious; besides, he knew well that this was one threat he could not fight alone. He was going to need all his cunning, all his courage and the help of all his friends if he was to save the pueblo. He was even going to need the help of his enemies.

When the arguments were over, and a small part of the band got on their horses and rode away noisily, Zorro and Toronado were ready to follow.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: KatieZfan, now it starts to explosively_ _!_

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CHAPTER THREE

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Señorita Victoria Escalante, the owner of Los Angeles' only tavern, and currently engaged to the son of the most prominent _caballero_ in the surrounding area, took the pot off the fire and carefully added a measure of wine to its contents. The wine stew was her signature dish (or one of her signature dishes, at least) and certainly her most popular, but its preparation required quite a lot of concentration. She was so focused on the task that it took her a long while to notice the shouting and commotion outside. She ran out to the front porch of the tavern, only to retreat inside almost immediately.

Armed men on horseback were overturning stall after stall, chasing equally after chickens, goats, a few peons, and even one of the soldiers. She had just seen Sergeant Mendoza rush out of the _cuartel_ , and then hide back behind the massive gate almost at once. He had barely managed to avoid one bullet or more. One of the attackers laughed and started to push on the gate to shut it. Another got a rope around one of the pillars supporting the roof of a nearby veranda and pulled the whole thing down, trapping a few people inside the house. She recognised one of the men and knew at once that she too was one of their targets.

 _Blast it, where's Zorro?_ she fleetingly thought, but rebuked herself for it immediately. She knew where he was: out in the hills, with no way of knowing what was going on in the pueblo. Which meant they had to manage on their own, as best as they could.

Her escape, though quick, did not go unnoticed by the attackers. Before she had even shut the door, she could already hear their shouts behind her. The bolts would not close. She left it to one of the guests to bar the entrance, and ran towards the back of the tavern, to secure that door as well. It might have been reckless of her, but she'd rather that no one could sneak up on her from behind while she was defending her home.

The _caballeros_ at the inn must not have been well-armed enough or desperate enough, unfortunately, for only moments later she heard that the fighting had moved into the main room. The shouts and the clattering of overturned furniture were beginning to drown out the sound of gunfire from the outside. Eventually she saw a hand tugging impatiently at the thick curtain that separated the main room from the kitchen.

Victoria was ready for that. Her sturdy cast-iron frying pan rose in a wide arc and met the intruder's head with a thud. The man gave a strangled groan and swayed on his feet. Fortunately, he stumbled forwards, not backwards, allowing her to grab his arm and shove him against the table. He was trying to get up, so she swung her pan wide and struck again. It was all the more satisfying for the fact that she had recognised him as the uncouth guest from the day before. He slumped to the floor, motionless, and she turned back towards the door to the main room.

The sounds of gunfire outside grew quieter, drowned out by the racket inside the tavern. Someone out there cried out – a short, pained yell – someone else crashed heavily into the wall. Moments later, a man careened through the curtain, flailing his arms to steady himself. Before he could regain his balance, Victoria used her pan again and a second body landed under the kitchen table.

The silence that followed was more alarming than the earlier commotion. The third intruder entered the kitchen much more slowly, cautiously drawing the curtain aside, but Victoria, taught by previous experience, aimed a spirited swing more or less at the place where she expected his head to be. And then she cried out – the stranger had caught her hand just in time to weaken the blow, though he wasn't quite fast enough to avoid it completely.

"That was painful, Señorita," Zorro said. He tweaked the brim of his hat to move it back to its proper place. "But very efficient, I see," he added, noticing the two men she had knocked out.

"Zorro!" Victoria's legs nearly gave out.

"Everything all right, Señorita Escalante?" he asked loudly, then added in a lower voice, "Forgive me I couldn't be here sooner. I had to deal with the ones outside."

Victoria glanced towards the torn kitchen curtain.

"We're fine here, SeñorZorro," she declared out loud, "although I suppose we'll need to do some cleaning later on."

"Sergeant Mendoza and the soldiers will be here soon," one of the guests interrupted. Others were shooting curious looks at Zorro and Victoria.

"You should better go, Zorro," she observed.

"Sadly, I rather need to stay," he replied. "This group was only one part of a much larger band currently hiding out in the hills. I believe Los Angeles will have to fight."

Out of a dozen intruders, only one had had the presence of mind – though, in the end, it did not help him much – to start running at once when Zorro came riding through the pueblo like an angel of vengeance. Those few moments when the band had split up to demolish the marketplace gave him enough time to reach them and throw them off their horses one by one. The last man had already reached the main room of the tavern before he was knocked out. Proud as a peacock, Mendoza oversaw the transport of the prisoners to the _cuartel_ jail, while Victoria, accompanied by three _caballeros,_ went to the _alcalde's_ office to inform him about the danger approaching Los Angeles. Zorro had excused himself before the sergeant had reached the tavern, and disappeared somewhere among the buildings. He had promised to join in on the conversation later on, but would rather avoid the soldiers at present. As he explained, he preferred not to draw their attention away from more important tasks.

X X X

"No, no, and no!" screamed the _alcalde_ , banging his fist on the desk. "I'm not sending armed soldiers outside the pueblo – not on your life! And who allowed you to put anyone in prison without my order?" Ramone hit the desk again to make his opinion clear, and cast an angry look at the little group before him. The three _caballeros_ he recognised as regular patrons of Señorita Escalante's tavern; one of them had wine stains showing on his frock coat. There was also Señorita Victoria herself, dressed in a dough-smeared skirt and lugging a huge frying pan. Sergeant Mendoza was hiding behind them, his face a mixture of concern and unhappiness, as if he'd really have liked to find himself elsewhere at present. The fact that they had all arrived so quickly after the unexpected gunfight at the _cuartel_ gates infuriated the _alcalde._

"Right, without your order," Victoria snorted. "We are very sorry, _alcalde_ , but they didn't ask your permission to attack us, either." She did not sound apologetic at all.

"Sergeant Mendoza!" Ramone yelled in reply. "Remove these people from my office at once!"

"But _alcalde_ ," protested Mendoza.

Don Eduardo cut in, "What do you mean, remove?"

"Kick them out!" Ramone repeated. "Did you hear me, Sergeant? Then release those prisoners, or whoever they are!"

"Deserters," someone spoke from the doorway.

"What?" The _alcalde_ spun around, hearing a voice he knew and loathed. "Zorro!"

He grabbed his sword reflexively, but Zorro did not react. Instead, Señorita Escalante moved to stand between him and Ramone. The _alcalde_ looked at her, considered her expression and the heavy frying pan which she had taken along in the heat of the moment after the battle, and which she now raised a little, as if getting ready to take a swing... and he slowly released his weapon. Zorro gave an approving smile at this display of caution.

"Care to explain what you're doing in my office, Zorro? And how you managed to get in here?" Ramone made an effort to retain at least a scrap of his authority.

"The latter is my business." Zorro shrugged. "All I can tell you is that we need to talk."

"We have nothing to talk about."

"But we do..." Zorro nonchalantly perched at the edge of the desk, at hand's reach from the _alcalde_. "As I've said, our unexpected guests are deserters. They're also murderers, thieves and robbers. They banded together to steal the transport of silver that will presently be passing through Santa Barbara on its way to the port of San Pedro. I imagine you've heard of that transport, _alcalde_?"

"I have," Ramone said. "But how does that concern me? You can't expect me to send out soldiers to protect it. This is the governor's job..."

"Unfortunately, _alcalde_ ," Zorro replied calmly, "before the bandits attack the transport, they'll first pay a visit to our pueblo."

"What do you mean?"

"You made a mistake, _alcalde_. You interrogated one of their ringleaders here, in your office. He had plenty of time to notice that the garrison in Los Angeles is weak... and that the alcalde is wealthy. Don't send the soldiers anywhere. They will be needed here, soon enough."

"Let's say I believe you, Zorro..." The _alcalde_ moved away from the desk a little, so as not to stand too close to his enemy. "Let's say there really is a band nearby. What's to stop me from sending the captives to Monterey, asking for reinforcements from the governor, and," he paused for a moment, "capturing you at the same time?" A small pistol appeared in his hand. Zorro did not even flinch.

"There are more than forty bandits out there," he said calmly. "No point in sending the prisoners to Monterey – as soon as they get to the hills, they will be freed by their comrades. You'll lose your soldiers, _alcalde_ , and the band will return, no weaker than before and wanting revenge even more than loot. Revenge upon you personally, _alcalde_." Luis Ramone paled and Zorro continued. "No courier will be able to reach Monterey, either, or even if one should get through, he won't bring the reinforcements back in time. The deserters will arrive tomorrow, as soon as they figure out what's happened to their comrades. This time, _alcalde,_ "Zorro rose, ignoring the pistol still trained on him. His voice was ice-cold, "this isn't our usual merry squabbling. There won't be any slashed vests or wasted gunpowder. This time we'll need to fight for our lives, or these men will turn Los Angeles into a smoking pile of rubble." Ramone still kept his weapon raised, so Zorro added with sudden amusement, "You really wouldn't like to save the pueblo and the governor's silver, _alcalde_? You wouldn't like to be a hero?"

Luis Ramone slowly put his gun down.

"Zorro," one of the men spoke up. "Is it really as bad as you say?"

"Yes, Don Eduardo. Unless we do something, the pueblo is lost."

"But what can we do? And what about the haciendas?"

"The haciendas are safe for now. The pueblo and its money coffers are a more tempting morsel for the band. As for what we can do – what else but fight back? If we prepare well, we still stand a chance." Zorro moved towards the door. "I'll fetch the young de la Vega."

"Don Diego?" Ramone said in surprise. "Why him?"

"Where's Diego?" Victoria asked at the same time.

Zorro paused in the doorway.

"He might not be the best swordsman around, but he can plan," he explained. "Right now he's in the northern hills, looking for the band's hiding place."

"He's searching for them?" Victoria looked at him, afraid.

"Don't be afraid, Señorita," smiled Zorro. "He won't find them. The bandits' hideout is south of the pueblo. _Adiós_!"

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

* * *

Diego de la Vega arrived late in the afternoon, accompanied by his father and loaded up with two or three sizeable books. He made his way straight to the tavern, where an impromptu military council was debating the possible defence measures. As he walked in, Ramone once again attempted to shout down everyone present.

"No, no, and no again!" he roared. "I'm not going to give everyone weapons and I'm not going to position the soldiers outside the _cuartel!_ I'm going to need them all inside."

"Good evening, _señor alcalde_ ," Diego interrupted as soon as Ramone had to pause for breath.

"De la Vega, finally." Ramone turned to him. "You weren't in too much of a hurry, were you?"

"Forgive me, _alcalde._ I came as soon as I heard I was needed."

"Don't worry, Diego, you don't need to explain yourself." Victoria wrapped her arms around her fiancé. "We can see you've had a long day..."

Indeed, Diego did not look his best at the moment. His hair was windswept, his clothes covered in dust. He had obviously spent the past few hours somewhere out in the hills.

"You really think you can give any advice here?" Ramone had no intention of going easy on him. He didn't like that Zorro had named the young de la Vega their chief strategist, or that he was forced to cooperate with Zorro in the first place. He especially did not like that in practice Zorro seemed to be in command of everything. "Have you ever led any soldiers?"

"No, _alcalde_." Diego lowered his head slightly, smiling one of his characteristic gentle smiles. "But perhaps my knowledge of Thucydides or _De bello gallico_ might prove to be of some help..." He raised his books in a meaningful manner.

"Who are they, then?"

"Strategists. Famous commanders." Diego's smile did not falter even for a moment. Ramone lost countenance a little, especially since people listening to the exchange were already beginning to snigger. It wasn't the first time the _alcalde_ had inadvertently displayed gaps in his education.

"Will they be useful to us?"

"Yes. If I may quote: when you are near, pretend you're far away. When you have the advantage, hide it..."

"And when you don't?"

"Then act like you do," Diego answered. "And that's exactly what we need to do now."

Giving the _alcalde_ no time to protest again, Diego turned to Victoria.

"I'll need your largest table. May we all gather round?" Before everyone got into place around the table, Diego had already started moving the jugs and plates around. He pointed to a pair of knives he had stuck into its surface. "This is the gate of Los Angeles..."

X X X

Night had already fallen by the time they had finished the planning session. Los Angeles was still awake, though. Don Alejandro was speaking to a few indecisive _caballeros_ , convincing them to take part in the defence of the pueblo. The peons crowded together noisily. Here and there the necessary barricades were already beginning to rise. No one had any thoughts to spare for the two dark silhouettes sneaking out to the stables behind the tavern.

"What are our chances, Diego?" Victoria wrapped the shawl more closely around her. The evening had a chill to it.

"We have some." Diego hugged her shoulders. "If we didn't act..."

"If we didn't fall out with that stranger..."

"We'd still be in danger, and none the wiser." Diego's voice was steely. "Nobody could guarantee that they wouldn't have attacked the pueblo after robbing the silver transport."

"What's wrong? What is that you're not telling us?"

"Nothing that the others would need to know..." He averted his eyes.

"Diego!" Victoria straightened up, suddenly wary.

"That man's got his eye on you," he admitted. "The attack today was aimed at you. If it were possible, I'd have you escorted away to Monterey, or at least hidden in the hacienda tomorrow. The others might be fighting for the pueblo, but I..."

"But nothing!" she stomped her foot.

"Victoria!"

"I'll manage. You don't need to worry."

"I know." Diego smiled weakly. "Keep that pan of yours close, will you?"

"Oh, did it hurt that much?"

"If I hadn't caught your hand, I'd be down on the floor myself."

"But you'll be careful, too, all right?"

"Yes..."

They were silent for a while, then Victoria sighed.

"I'm scared," she confessed. "I've been scared many times before, but this thing tomorrow..."

"We'll be fine. Just don't forget the frying pan."

"Diego!" she said, exasperated. "How can you be joking about something like this?"

"I can. I want to. Sometimes a joke is the only thing that helps."

"Are you scared, too?"

"A little."

"So am I... But there's something else I'm thinking about. Today you showed the _alcalde_ how to make a proper trap. I'm worried he might remember your lesson one day." Diego did not reply, so she added, "Haven't you considered this? That he might deploy his soldiers against you like this sometime?"

"I have. I'm also aware that I'll be down there in the marketplace tomorrow, with everyone around me firing their guns. But this is the only way of dealing with those bandits. I'll just need to take the risk."

"Oh, Diego!" Victoria suddenly turned around and buried her face in his chest. "You're insufferable!"

"Shh... shh, my darling... It'll work out tomorrow, the _alcalde_ isn't that clever, and I know how to escape from a trap like this... Everything will be all right... Shh..."

* * *

 _To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

* * *

Morning came far too soon for the defenders of the pueblo. At dawn, a stranger rode into the marketplace at full speed. He stopped by the well, looked around and galloped back out. Ramone watched him come and go from the window of his office.

"Like I told you," Zorro said calmly. The _alcalde_ scowled and moved a step back from the window. He still couldn't help but feel uneasy in the presence of his guest. Zorro had shown up before dawn, bearing the news that the bandits were slowly preparing to ride out against Los Angeles. They weren't yet quite sure if their chums had met with some unfortunate end, or if they were only having a little fun in the pueblo, but they wanted to join them in any eventuality. Ramone would have liked to get his hands around a sword or a pistol now, but he knew this was not the best time. Not yet, in any case. "They already know we captured the last group. It's their move now. They'll be here by noon. There's still time to finish the preparations."

The market square was quite busy throughout the morning, but the turmoil dissipated as the sun rose higher in the sky. Shortly before noon there was nothing but silence all around. Only a particularly sharp-eyed observer might have noticed small groups sitting here and there behind a wall or looking out of a window.

A cloud of dust rose over the Santa Barbara road. Zorro got up from his vantage point by the church tower and waved a cloth in the direction of the _cuartel_. One of the soldiers signalled back to him.

The words, _They're coming!_ were passed from mouth to mouth in the marketplace. The women picked up their baskets of food and hurriedly escaped from the garrison. The soldiers started to shift in their positions on the wall and by the _cuartel_ gate. Here and there one could hear the creak of a shutter being open, elsewhere someone was hurriedly moving a basket or a chest to block the door.

The riders galloped to the middle of the market square, shouting and firing their guns. And there they stopped – the entire pueblo appeared to be deserted. After a moment of consternation, one of them pointed at the garrison gate, signalling the attack.

Mendoza curled up behind the wall, hearing the clatter of horses' hooves. He still remembered Diego de la Vega's words from the night before, _They'll attack the garrison first. They're going to know we're expecting them, but they'll still move against the garrison first, to break out their comrades. They'll be hoping to face no one but the soldiers. When they're all crowding around the gate, they'll be unprotected. That's our cue to attack from the tavern._

Indeed, the band moved towards the _cuartel_ gate. The heavy bars shook with the blows. Before the first attackers could climb over the wall, though, a volley of shots rang out. The _caballeros_ gathered inside the tavern were not stingy with the bullets.

The first volley had devastating results, at once turning the compact crowd into a confused tumult of men and horses. The bandits sprang away from the gate to move against their attackers, but then the soldiers rose up from behind the wall and started shooting.

The alcalde cautiously drew aside the curtains in his window and aimed at the crowd in the square below. He recalled the young de la Vega's words, _There are three points around the marketplace that we must defend. The garrison, since it will be attacked first, the tavern and the church. If they get into any of those buildings, they'll be able to barricade themselves inside and put up a long fight._

The plan was working. The band had split up. After the first round of shots from the soldiers, before the bandits could gather their wits about them, the explosions began. The horses reared in fright, dancing on the spot, squealing and kicking. Their riders could not fire back, or even draw their weapons. The _alcalde_ muttered a particularly foul oath. He recognised the trick. Zorro had used it a few times to force him to call off some of his decrees. Back then he had believed that some numerous, well-armed force must be nearby. Now he could see that the explosions were seemingly conjured from thin air.

The panicked horses were clashing, throwing their riders to the ground. One of the robbers didn't lose his nerve, though. He shouted an order and the other men started to jump out of their saddles, letting the terrified animals go free. Some of the horses made their way to the main road, which became a signal for a general retreat. The bandits tried to find their way out of the pueblo on foot. Some attempted to escape from the marketplace through gaps between the surrounding buildings. _Once they are under fire from three directions, they'll scatter and try to hide behind the houses. We can catch them one by one in there, at no great danger._ The narrow alleys held a few unpleasant surprises for the intruders – the streets had been barricaded with crates, baskets or carts in order to prevent the robbers from leaving the vicinity of the square. Those who dared to venture in there suddenly found themselves surrounded by men who had lain in wait for them. Without loaded pistols, armed only with their knives, the bandits were helpless against the peons brandishing sticks, clubs and whips.

Those who had decided to leave the pueblo via the main road fared no better than their comrades. The man on the black stallion barred their way. Everyone who tried to approach him received painful lashes of his whip. Zorro forced the bandits to retreat back to the market square, where they were met by another volley from the muskets. A few deserters still hoped not so much to run, but rather to launch an attack. They couldn't hope to breach the _cuartel_ gate any more, since it was too tall for men on foot, but they were trying to break into one of the houses around the marketplace. It was a vain attempt. The doors were all secured and muskets flashed out of every window. If that alone hadn't been enough, Zorro rode into their midst and used his whip as well as well-aimed kicks to knock them to the ground.

The _alcalde_ raised his loaded pistol and took careful aim. He couldn't not grasp at this chance – the black-clad rider was milling about right underneath his window. There was no way he could miss. One bullet, and all his troubles with keeping Los Angeles subjugated would be over...

In the cacophony of screams, curses, horses' squeals and musket fire, Zorro heard the shot behind his back with crystal clarity. For a moment it felt like his side was on fire – a feeling he knew well and did not like one bit. Someone had shot him in the back. It hadn't been any of the intruders, either. Before he could turn to check who was behind him, though, one of the robbers attacked him, cutlass in hand, forcing Zorro to focus on him for the time being. Another man took the opportunity to pull him down from his saddle. He succeeded, but did not get to enjoy his victory for very long. Zorro floored him with a powerful punch, and knocked the cutlass out of his comrade's hand.

Ramone swore again. If only that confounded horse had not jumped at that very moment... Even if his shot had hit, Zorro was not seriously wounded, judging by how easily he brought down yet another bandit. The fact that he was on foot himself didn't make the attackers' situation any easier. Toronado took position by the passage out of the market square and launched his own offensive against the robbers, kicking and biting until most of them no longer even attempted to get close.

The last of the bandits tried to escape through the alleyways between the houses. To chase after them, the soldiers opened the _cuartel_ gate, and the _caballeros_ ran out of the tavern.

Victoria listened to the noise of the battle. More shots, explosions, screaming men and squealing horses... She had no way of telling whether the defenders of the pueblo were winning or losing. She drew the latch back and cautiously opened the door just a crack, intending to peek outside. Unfortunately, she did so just as a breathless, dust-covered man scrambled onto the porch. He must have noticed the chink in the door, for he leapt at it and pulled sharply, then started to shove. Victoria leaned her whole body weight against it to block it, but she could feel her feet sliding as she was slowly pushed inside.

Suddenly the pressure weakened. When she glanced through the crack again, the bandit was fighting Zorro. They were motionless for a moment, struggling for the same knife, so she dashed out of the tavern and hit the bandit with her frying pan as hard as she could. He slowly crumpled to the ground.

"Thank you for your help, Señorita," Zorro said, breathing heavily. "But now please go and lock yourself up in the tavern."

"You said..." Victoria wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms but the chilly acknowledgement brought her back at once to their present situation. "Are we winning?" she asked instead.

Zorro turned towards the marketplace. The din of battle had already died down. Only the voices of the pueblo's inhabitants could be heard around them.

"The fighting's over," he replied. "We won. I need to disappear before anyone notices Diego's absence. The _alcalde_ tried to shoot me."

"What!"

"I imagine he thought it might just work." A whistle brought a snorting, nervous Toronado back to his master's side. Zorro jumped into the saddle. _"Adiós, señorita, adiós señores."_ He saluted Victoria and the others with his sword and galloped towards the gate, moments before Luis Ramone came running out of the _cuartel_.

The _alcalde_ angrily threw his pistol on the ground. There was no point in ordering the soldiers to shoot Zorro – their muskets had been fired already, their pistols as well. In any case, he had an unpleasant suspicion that none of the soldiers would obey an order like that right at this moment. Instead, he had them collect the scattered weapons and lock up the beaten, injured intruders.

Victoria dropped her frying pan onto the kitchen table with a loud bang and dashed upstairs, to the upper floor of the tavern. She knocked impatiently. Don Alejandro opened the door.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"No. The _alcalde_ shot at Zorro."

"What! Is he wounded?"

"I don't know – I don't think so. He should be here any moment..." She hurriedly started drawing back the bars on the side window shutters. It was the same window that opened onto the roof of the stable behind the tavern. "You should better go downstairs, everyone is gathering outside."

"What about you?"

"I'll wait here. I'll get downstairs with Diego in a few moments."

Don Alejandro made his way to the main room of the tavern. It was already empty, so he went out to the porch. The market square was crowded now. Corporal Rojas was in charge of escorting each group of bandits to prison. Doctor Hernandez was just bending down to examine one of the captives. Judging by the shake of his head, this particular deserter would most likely not live to see jail time or a trial.

Sergeant Mendoza noticed Don Alejandro and moved towards him, beaming.

"We did it! We did it!" he called out from afar. By the red spots on his cheeks, the heat and the emotions must have brought him dangerously close to a stroke, but, all the same, he looked half-drunk with happiness. "It was an excellent plan, Don Alejandro! Did you see it, Señor? Did you see them going in circles? Did you see how Zorro knocked them off their horses? And how they ran from the garrison on foot? Did you see?" he kept repeating.

"I did, Sergeant," smiled Don Alejandro, watching the _alcalde_ pace to and fro by the _cuartel_ wall. Ramone looked somewhat pleased by the favourable turn of events, but also somewhat angry.

"All thanks to Don Diego's plan!" Mendoza babbled on. "Ah, right – where is Diego? Is he all right?"

"Fine, fine. No need to worry, Sergeant. He was with me in the tavern, firing at those bandits from an upstairs room." Don Alejandro's eyes were still trained on Ramone. He wanted nothing so much as to give the man a good beating.

"That's very well, but... why isn't he with us? We won only thanks to him!"

"He stayed up there for a moment longer."

"But..."

"Sergeant, Victoria went to him..."

"Ah, Señorita Victoria…" Mendoza smiled knowingly. "I get it... let's give the lovebirds some time alone..."

Zorro appeared only moments after Don Alejandro had left. He nimbly jumped from the windowsill, but before he could pull off his mask, Victoria ran into his arms. Felipe gave an amusing wince.

"Are you well?" she asked after a long interval. "What about that shot?"

"Only a graze," Zorro declared, unbuttoning his shirt and touching a welt on his side. He grimaced, seeing a smudge of red on his fingers. "Well, a touch more than a graze, perhaps. A scratch."

"You promised you'd be careful!"

He smiled apologetically.

"I did try my best..."

"You! You..."

Whatever Victoria had to say needed to wait a good long while. Felipe stared ostentatiously at the door. He did not look around until he heard the sound of a pair of boots hitting the floor. Diego was hurriedly putting on his everyday shoes. Victoria was in his way, trying to wrap a bandage around his waist.

"Felipe, your fireworks were magnificent. Without you, things would have been more difficult by half."

The boy grinned, but then grew more serious and started to signal something wildly. Diego froze in mid-movement.

"The _alcalde_ , you say? He's going to know how we did it the other times? Never mind, that won't change a thing. No, I don't think so... No, I just need to make sure this particular contribution is attributed to Zorro, not Diego. A small personal touch, as it were."

Someone knocked on the door.

"You're expected downstairs." Don Alejandro glanced cautiously into the room. "Still not ready, Diego? The _alcalde_ would like to offer his personal thanks for your excellent plan," he said, curling his lip. "Are you all right?" he added anxiously.

"It was nothing serious, but Ramone tried for a quick solution to his problems," Diego snorted, buttoning up his shirt. "One day he and I will need to have a little chat about that," he promised, rather grimly.

"One day," Don Alejandro nodded. "But now let's go downstairs – it's time to celebrate!"

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	6. EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

* * *

The sun was setting over Los Angeles, its light painting the walls orange and gold. The evening brought with it a respite from the ever-present heat. A slight breeze stirred the stale, warm air.

The marketplace was buzzing. Tables had been set up in from of Señorita Escalante's tavern. The inhabitants of the pueblo milled about in little groups.

"They're coming, they're coming!" someone cried out from the vantage point on top the church tower.

The _alcalde_ rode into the town first, followed by the soldiers, two by two. An empty cart rolled slowly in the rear. Two weeks earlier the same cart had been used to transport the captured deserters away from the pueblo. Barefoot children shrieked and whooped, and tried to race the horses as they passed the gate. At the entrance of the garrison, the alcalde hopped off his horse and gave the reins to the corporal. The soldiers rode in one by one, whereas Ramone himself crossed the square and stepped into the porch of the tavern.

Luis Ramone was happy. All around he could see people looking at him with respect, nay, almost with awe. As he made his speech, he soaked up their gratitude and admiration. Yes, a moment like this was something to happily dream of for years to come. It was everything he had ever wished for.

He finished his speech and made his way back to the _cuartel_. Oh, he'd be back, he'd have a few glasses of excellent wine and listen to people's thanks and congratulations, but first – in order to make this night truly perfect – he had something he needed to do. He took his horse's reins from Corporal Rojas, who had waited for him obediently all the while, retrieved a small sack from his saddle and walked off towards his office. The sack he had brought from Monterey was pleasantly heavy, and jingled in his hand. He would only put it in his personal, well-hidden strongbox, and he'd return to the market square, to celebrate their victory over the band of deserters and collect his due accolades. Now, just to make sure that no one would spoil the moment for him...

As he pulled the coffer out to lift the heavy lid more easily, he felt a breeze on the back of his neck. Oh no, not this, he thought. Not now, not _tonight_.

"Good evening, _alcalde_ ," someone behind him said. It was a voice he knew and hated. Right now it sounded a little amused, as if surprising the _alcalde_ had been an excellent joke.

"What are you doing here?" he grunted, straightening up. The question was largely rhetorical – Ramone knew well enough what was the purpose of the visit. Still, if he could just get to his desk and the drawer where he kept a hidden pistol, the intrusion might yet prove to be the crowning glory of the evening instead of its lowest point.

"You really should have expected this, _alcalde_ ," Zorro grinned and pointed his sword at the sack lying on the desk.

"These aren't taxes," Ramone snarled. "I didn't force anyone to give me that money! You've got no right..." he finished a little less certainly.

"No, this isn't tax money," Zorro agreed. "But your soldiers and the people of the pueblo have earned a reward, too. They also fought the robbers. It seems a little unfair that all they should get nothing but some pretty words for their trouble, doesn't it?"

"And by people, you mean yourself?"

"No. I have no need of it." Zorro shrugged. "But many of those celebrating outside will be happy to hear about the _alcalde's_ generous decision to share the reward money. Who knows, they may even grow to like you," there was a note of mockery in Zorro's voice.

"Let's say... let's say I listen to you." Ramone cautiously approached the desk. _Hold the sack in one hand, move the other lower down, to the drawer handle._ The drawer had been oiled, so it wouldn't squeak. Zorro was only two steps away, and he had lowered his sword. _Keep your eyes on him, don't turn away even for a second – he can't know what you're really reaching for, he must be taken by surprise..._

"Looking for this, _alcalde_?" Zorro retrieved a pistol from underneath his cloak. Ramone was speechless for a moment, so the outlaw dropped the gun on his desk. "Take my advice and get a gunsmith to look at it. It's off target to the left by quite a margin."

Ramone grabbed the pistol without saying a word. Off target or not, he couldn't miss from three steps away. Before he could raise his hand, however, what felt like a lash of fire forced it back to the desk. A heartbeat later he was flying backwards, towards the wall. Zorro's hand was around his throat.

"I knew you were a coward and a scoundrel, but I didn't think even you would stoop to shooting someone in the back," he hissed.

The _alcalde_ was very afraid now. He felt Zorro's fingers pressing harder and harder into his neck. The pistol was still on the desk. The hubbub of the celebration outside was getting louder; the soldiers had also joined the fiesta. No one would hear his cry for help among the noise. Even if someone did, before they could get to his office, Zorro would have disappeared, leaving behind... What? A half-strangled _alcalde_ and an empty money box? Or a dead _alcalde_ , perhaps? This time Zorro might not forgive him the attempt on his life...

"No..." he croaked. "Mercy..."

For a moment that seemed to last an eternity Zorro did not move a muscle. Finally he relaxed his grip and Ramone fell to his knees, coughing, choking and struggling to catch his breath. After a while, a black-gloved hand caught his chin and lifted it so that he was looking Zorro in the eye.

"Do not change the rules of the game, _alcalde_ ," Zorro said with an icy calm. "If I decide to change mine, you might not get the time to beg for mercy. Remember this."

The _alcalde_ expected to hear the sound of ripping cloth, or a creak of the desk, but Zorro disappeared like a spectre, without a sound. The fact that he hadn't left his usual mark terrified Luis Ramone even more. He knelt there for a long time, gasping for air and trying to calm his wildly beating heart, before he was able to get up and stagger off towards the marketplace, to distribute the governor's reward money.

X X X

In the square, the fiesta was getting in full swing. Jugs of wine were passed from hand to hand; a few musicians from the tavern sat down in the corner of the porch and started to play lively melodies for the people dancing by the well. Victoria hurried past the soldiers, the _caballeros_ and the peons, distributing more jugs. She paused momentarily by Sergeant Mendoza, who was describing their reception by the governor to all and sundry, but presently she was on her way again, weaving through the celebrating crowd.

She couldn't find Diego anywhere. She'd lost sight of him right at the start, just after he'd exchanged a few words with Mendoza during Ramone's speech. She expected he'd made himself scarce because he was planning to enter the square as Zorro; she'd checked the secret hiding place under the stable roof, where he stored Zorro's clothes, and found it empty. But Zorro hadn't appeared, either. She could only suspect that his absence had to do with the sack she'd seen the _alcalde_ carry off so hurriedly.

Finally she noticed his tall silhouette at one side of the square, under the roof of a veranda.

"Zor...?" she faltered. "Diego?"

"It's me," he replied. He was leaning back against the wall, oddly grim. She'd never seen him in that mood before.

"What happened?"

"Zorro talked to the _alcalde,_ " he answered. Something in his voice worried her.

"Diego?" she asked.

"Zorro talked... No, I did," he said flatly. "I nearly killed him," he stated. "I. Not Zorro."

For a long while she didn't know what to say, so she only wrapped an arm around Diego's waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. He returned the embrace, but he was still staring off into the distance, oddly absent-minded.

"I wanted to kill him," he finally said. "I did. Whenever I remember how he'd tried to shoot me, I still do."

"If anything had happened to Zorro... If he'd done anything to you... I'd have killed him myself," Victoria stated calmly.

"Vi!" Diego turned to her, surprised. She smiled, seeing that his dejection had disappeared.

"I'd have done it," she said.

Shouting in the market square drew their attention. The _alcalde_ had left the garrison and was making another speech. At first his voice was rather uncertain and hoarse, but when the news of a monetary reward was greeted by loud cheers from the nearby soldiers and peons, he suddenly grinned and started distributing the money.

"He likes that," Diego observed. Victoria didn't know if he was talking about Luis Ramone or about Sergeant Mendoza, who had just received his share of the reward and was now waving enthusiastically at everyone present. She decided that Diego was more likely to be thinking about the _alcalde_ , though.

"Do you think he's going to remember what you said to him?"

"He'll remember... I hope he will..."

Locked in an embrace, they remained there, watching the joyous commotion around them.

* * *

THE END

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you for your reviews. Thanks to Dizzy fire there will be third part soon_


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